Dateklok
by FrankenFaust
Summary: Murderface is stricken with loneliness and it's starting to affect the other members of Dethklok. Charles tries to remedy his depression by setting him up on a date in hopes of regaining control of the band. M for suggestive Language.
1. Chapter 1

"Shut up, yous retard!" Skwisgaar yelled across the table.

"No, you shut up! I'm tired of you taking credit for creating all of my bass lines," Murderface folded his arms; a mist of saliva projecting itself with his lisp.

"I _do_ creates all of yous bass lines."

"Yeah, but you don't have to tell people that. You asshole!"

"Enough!" Charles finally intervened. His voice rang around the conference room. He looked tired. "This morning's radio session was the sorriest excuse of an interview you've done in a long time. This constant bickering between the five of you is ruining all of our publicity leads. How are we supposed to promote the new album when all you do is scream about how much you wanna kill each other? Not to mention how long it took Knubbler to prepare it in the first place because of your stupid little fights. Consider this a warning. No more throwing beer bottles at each other, fucking with each others instruments or threatening to walk out on the band unless you get solo time on the next album. Enough with the bullshit!"

"Well, tells that to Murderface," Skwisgaar replied. "He's the one who starts it alls the time."

"Am not!"

"Are too," Pickles nodded.

"Yeah, I'd have to agree," Nathan's gruff voice chimed in. "You've been a real dick lately. Like way more than normal. It's driving the rest of us crazy."

Charles lifted an eyebrow.

"Alright, William, so what's bothering you?" he asked with a sigh. He didn't really want to know, but if knowing helped the band in any way then, he needed to.

"Gee, I dunno. Maybe it's that I'm fat and ugly and nobody likes me. I can't even hold a girlfriend for more than a day, because eventually they all sober up and run away screaming…" William trailed off.

"And yous feet smells," Toki added.

"Yeah, and my feet smell! Oh, god I'm such a loser!" Murderface closed his eyes, slamming a chubby fist against the table.

"Well," their manger began, feeling uncomfortable at the sight of a grown man on the verge of tears. "I can't make you attractive to women and I don't know anyone who can. But maybe I can arrange for one of those celebrity matchmakers to take you on as a client or something. I'll call Maddie Strangler."

"She can _make_ me a woman? Like with tits and everything?" Murderface perked up. "She won't look like Chef Jean-Pierre, will she? Nevermind, I'm not picky. I'll take her."

"No, that's not what matchmaker means. I said Maddie Strangler, not Mary Shelley," Charles rolled his eyes. "A matchmaker is someone who tries to pair you up with a woman who might like you…or at least be able to tolerate you for some reasonable amount of time," he explained, trying not to sneer at his client's grotesque appearance. "Anyway, meeting's over. William, I'll get back to you later."

* * *

"It is time," Orlaag announced. "We've waited for this moment for so long; an opportunity to exploit Dethklok's biggest weakness," he addressed the tribunal, a claw-like finger pointing upward with conviction. "William Murderface!"

"That oaf?" replied General Cozier. "What about Nath—"

"No! Don't you see that William is the answer? He's the most pathetic member of Dethklok and his erratic behavior is causing dysfunction within the band. Charles Offendsen has arranged for a matchmaker to find him a woman, someone to settle his anger before it ruins them. But _we_ shall encourage this anger."

"What do you have planned?" asked another member of the tribunal.

"I thought you'd never ask," Orlaag smirked. "We shall send him a match of our own. Someone with nothing to lose, who will do anything for the right reward; someone who already possesses knowledge of the Mordhaus layout in case the need for added infiltration arises. Rocksanne!" the elderly man clapped twice.

Out of the darkness, stepped what appeared to be a hairy woman with lopsided breasts in a tight dress. Every member of the tribunal turned away in disgust, but without the ability to completely take their eyes off of the train wreck in front of them.

"Please, pull your dress down!" Orlaag demanded while shielding his face with one hand. "The plan begins tonight."

* * *

Murderface sat on the couch, peacefully tuning his bass. Tonight, it didn't matter that he could hear Skwisgaar's headboard slamming against a nearby wall or that Nathan and Pickles were likely to screw that handful of groupies who had been invited to Mordhaus. Nor did it matter that Toki had probably squeezed more tits than he himself had ever collectively seen. His jealousy had already improved three-fold since his first meeting with the matchmaker that week. Tonight, she would send his match to the house and he'd finally get some action of his own.

But outside, Evelyn Michaels, the brunette who had been matched up with Murderface was struggling against her captors as they pulled her body into the back of a black van. In her place, Rocksanne stomped her way up to the house in a pair of neon pink heels. She rang the doorbell obnoxiously before a klokateer finally opened up. Assuming that she was Evelyn, he moved out of the threshold and escorted her to the living room.

"My Lord," the klokateer announced their presence. "Your date is here."

"Hey, b-b-b-baby!" the woman greeted. "Let's go," she tried to rush things.

Murderface cocked an eyebrow.

"Wait. What is this, some kinda joke?" he squinted his eyes; suspicion in his gaze. "There's no way a girl like you would wanna date a guy like me, would you?" his voice softened.

"Uh, sure," Rocksanne gave half a shrug before rubbing at her nose. "We should leave now!"

Just then, the slew of groupies from earlier began trailing out of the hallway; hair mussed, make-up smudged. Nathan and Pickles were walking just behind them. After receiving a nod from Nathan, the klokateer ushered the women outside of Mordhaus.

"Whoa, whose this?" asked Pickles once his view of Rocksanne became clearer.

"Back off! This one's mine!" Murderface stood up from the couch, stretching his arms out protectively.

"Trust me, I'm not interested. There's something…odd about all this."

"Yeah," Nathan continued. "She smells like pee and menthols."

"You guys are just jealous!" the bassist insisted; spit flying this way and that. "Don't listen to them, babe," he said, wrapping an arm around his date. He gave her a sniff and decided to ignore Nathan's truthful assessment of her unusual odor. "Toki," he called out after seeing the other man walk by. "Come here a minute. What do _you_ think of my date?"

"I think yous reminds me of someones…" Toki explained while stroking his chin. "Someones loud and always is talkings…"

Rocksanne felt sweat beading around her forehead.

"Really? Heh-heh," she giggled nervously.

"Yeah, someones who spent a lot of times around here durings Christmas. Someones like… Grandmas Murderface!" the guitarist nodded.

"Hey, maybe Toki's on to something," Pickles grinned. "Kinda like that psychological crap where people like to marry other people who remind them of their parents."

"Hey, I didn't pick her, the matchmaker did!" Murderface defended himself. "No offense, babe. Anyway, we're outta here. We've got reservations at Chez Etienne," he said smugly. "C'mon sweetheart."

The three remaining bandmates watched as their bassist guided his date out of their home and into his Lincoln Continental.

"I hate yous guys," Toki said all of a sudden.

"What, why?" Nathan asked.

"Because! Yous lets Murderface go on a date with Dr. Rockzo, but yous wont's even let me be's his friend. Geez, what a hippogriffs!" Toki stormed off.

The room remained silent for few moments.

"Uh…Dr. Rockzo," Nathan began thoughtfully. "I…uh—"

"Yeah, I know..." Pickles interrupted. "Brutal."

"Wanna go fuck up his bass?"

"Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

"Shhh, shhh! He's coming. Everybody act normal!" Pickles urged as he, Toki, Skwisgaar, and Nathan pretended to read newspapers while sitting on the couch. "Dammit, Toki!" the redhead whispered. He grabbed Toki's newspaper and turned it right side up. "Hold it like _this_."

Just then, it became apparent that Murderface had finally come home. The other band members could faintly hear him talking to his date as they approached the common area. "Gee, babe. You've been sweaty and jittery for the past hour. Maybe we should go _rest_ in my bedroom," he huskily suggested.

"Take a look, take a look!" Pickles said quietly, nudging Skwisgaar with his elbow. The blond peered from behind his newspaper at a frumpy looking woman looped arm and arm with Murderface. "It's Rockzo," Pickles tried not to laugh.

"Heys, Murderface," Skwisgaar called out while folding his paper over. The others followed suit. "Hows yous date tonight?"

"Well, if you must know," Murderface crooned. "…it's going just great. Right, Sweetie?" he asked while looking over at his date.

"Yeah, everything's g-g-g-good! But, where's the bathroom? You got a twenty dollar bill or a straw or something?" asked Rocksanne while she continued to jitter all over the place.

"Sure, babe. Hey, you!" the bassist yelled to a klokateer on standby. "See that Rocksanne gets everything she needs and escort her to my bedroom, please. She'd like to freshen up."

"Yes, Sire," the klokateer obeyed, whisking the woman away.

Murderface waited until Rocksanne was out of earshot to direct his attention back to his band mates. "Alright guys," he began thoughtfully. "I know why you're all sitting out here, waiting for me to come home from the date. And it's okay. I used to be jealous of you too, but now that I'm in love her and she's in love with me, well..."

"Wow, Murderface. Rocksanne must really be…special," Nathan began, struggling to bite back a laugh. "Did she let you cop a feel yet?"

"Ewe!" Toki erupted suddenly. Pickles gave him a glare. "I mean…Ow…I's hurts myself. This newspapers is sharp."

"I may have palmed a buttock or two at the movie theatre, tonight. Plus I got plenty of tongue action. She was reluctant at first, but then she went to go powder her nose and when she came back, wow…it was like she was on something!"

"Cool," Nathan smirked. "Groping at the movies, huh?"

"Oh, and I totally got to second base on our way to the drug store for some rubbers, if you know what I mean!" Murderface winked.

"Oh, gods. I thinks I'm gonna throws up!" Toki held his throat, retching, and shaking his head

"Toki, shut up!" Pickles urged.

"No! This nots funny no more. This gross!"

"What's going on?" William folded his arms. He thought for a moment and then his face began to contort. "Awe, man! I knew it. Toki, are you still a virgin?"

"What?"

"Listen, if this conversation is too grown up for you I'll stop until you leave the room," Murderface lisped in a fatherly tone.

"Oh gods, I gets out of here. So sick!" Toki scrambled up from the couch and left the room.

"I guess I should be getting back to Rocksanne now; put a glove on and get my love on."

"What, no baresback?" Skwisgaar teased. "Just pulls it outs early."

Nathan had to hide his face against the sofa to stop from laughing out loud. Pickles didn't care anymore, he was doubled over, practically crying with laughter.

"Don't laugh! I'm not ready to have another child. Raising Fatty was hard enough. Gee, I hope Rocksanne doesn't mind that I'm a single father. Good thing we already released him to his natural habitat," Murderface shrugged. "Anyway, guys. Night."

"Goodnight!" the other men replied in unison.

"Brutal," Pickles shook his head. "Just brutal."

* * *

Upon entering the bedroom, Murderface found Rocksanne face down, legs spread, and mumbling into the mattress. She only had one shoe on and a yards worth of toilet paper was stuck to the bottom.

"Here, let me help you with that." After crawling onto the bed, he removed her pink shoe then, gave it a sniff. "Hey, you use Desenex too?" he asked. She didn't respond. "Sweetie?" She still didn't say anything. Keeping a close eye on her to make sure that she wouldn't catch him, William slipped her shoe onto one of his own feet. Feeling experimental, he hobbled over to his bedroom door to make sure it was locked. Then hobbled back to find the other shoe and try it on. He began strutting around the room with one hand on his hip, doing turns and dips as he made his way up to the full length mirror on his wall. "Hey, sexy," he said to himself.

"Huh?" Rocksanne stirred.

"Nothing, nothing! Don't look!" Murderface answered quickly, and sat back on the bed with his date. He began rubbing her ass. "Nice!"

"Mmm…" the woman moaned as her date crept a careful hand under the hem of her dress.

"Oooh, yeah," William breathed. "No panties." He continued to pet her furry butt with anticipation. "Hey, baby, I've got a condom."

"C-c-c-cocaine!" the woman's head perked up a little.

"Haha, no," Murderface replied, slowly curving his hand past her buttocks. "I said c—cock—cock!" he stuttered frantically before leaping up to his feet. "Oh, shit. You have a cock! Who are you?" he demanded. "Oh, no!" it finally hit him after thinking about the cocaine remark and her frequent visits to the bathroom. As if the hairiness, drifting left breast, penchant for neon clothing, and high pitched voice weren't enough. "Get the fuck outta my room!" he yelled, grabbing his bass and wielding it at Rockzo.

"D-d-d-damn, baby! Calm down!" the clown pleaded while trying to find his way out of the bedroom. Running barefoot, he almost managed to make it past the common room before he was jumped by three klokateers.

"Hold him!" Murderface demanded, forgetting that he still had the pink shoes on. His heel snagged on the rug and sent him tumbling forward. He tripped over Dr. Rockzo's body and slid into the hot tub headfirst…

* * *

"Normally, I would scold you for falling for such a stupid trick. But I think making out with Rockzo and touching his dick is punishment enough," Charles explained as he stood beside his client's hospital bed.

"Fuck you…" Murderface managed to say through the pain. "Ah, man. I feel like shit."

"Well, one of your hands is broken, so is your nose…not that anyone can tell the difference. And you've already gone through two emergency surgeries while you were knocked out. Oh, yeah. And you were underwater for a while, so you might have some brain damage too…not that anyone will notice that either."

"What? How long have I been here?

"About four days."

"Am I gonna be okay?"

"I guess," Charles said indifferently. "I brought you a little something by the way." He held up a familiar base guitar.

"Thanks," Murderface accepted it miserably. Feeling uncomfortable, he lifted up his sheet and hospital gown to examine a large scar on his abdomen that had begun itching as it heeled. "Hey, my dick looks bigger!" he said pridefully while looking down at his penis.

"Don't get used to it. It's just a temporary side effect of the medication you're taking. By the way, the rest of the band is putting a short charity album together this week and they've decided to let you do a solo in lieu of your…misfortune."

"Really? They're giving me the solo? Wait. Look at my fucking hand. I can't play with this. Those fuckers! They already knew that, didn't they?"

"No, I think they assumed that you'd just play with your dick or something," Charles said while looking at his watch. "Anyway, I've gotta go. Take care, William." He left the room quietly.

"Solo, huh?" Murderface smiled to himself. Lowering his bass, he began strumming away with his manhood, but suddenly stopped. His playing sounded awful. He tried again. It was worse this time. Something was wrong. It was his penis. At this new size it was just too heavy and awkward to maneuver. "No! Stupid, clumsy fuck! I want my solooo!"

His screams rattled through the hospital walls, reverberating down every hallway, causing birds on the rooftops to fly away in fear.

* * *

Down in the studio, the booth windows began to rattle.

"Did you hear something?" asked Nathan.

"Nothing important," replied Knubbler through the intercom. "Alright, let's take it from the top."


End file.
